Perfect 37
by Violet-Amy
Summary: From a GKM prompt: "I want to see Kurt and Dave do their taxes together as a couple for the very first time. The reason I want this is because I like numbers. Do want: them doing a lot of math. Going into some depth in either New York or Ohio tax laws." I can't explain why this prompt spoke to me, but here it is.


"Mr. Hummel?" Jamie, one of this year's new New Directions, approaches him after practice. "Do you have a minute? I'm having trouble deciding on a song for this week's assignment, and—"

"I'm sorry," Kurt says, and he genuinely is, a little anyway, "but I _don't_ have a minute right now." He does like to be there for the kids, but this hardly sounds like an emergency—not one worth sacrificing his home life for. And he's got plans with his husband tonight.

His life, five years after NYADA graduation, is nothing like what he expected. He's back in Ohio, for one thing. He and his husband (then boyfriend) did live in New York for a couple years. His husband really never liked it there but didn't complain too much, because he knew it was what Kurt wanted. But then when Burt's cancer came back, worse this time, Kurt couldn't let him and Carole go through it alone.

And it wasn't like he was giving up anything career-wise in New York, nothing but "potential" anyway, as he still hadn't made it to much beyond singing waiter. Whereas in Lima, McKinley happened to be in need of a glee coach, and Hummel Tire & Lube was in need of a manager, which happened to be something Dave was good at and enjoyed, so...

Yeah, years ago he certainly never would have seen himself marrying Dave Karofsky. But then something happened during those months he was trying to win Blaine back from Dave, and suddenly he realized Blaine was no longer the half of "Blainofsky" that he was in love with.

Dave himself has been full of surprises over the years. The emotional vulnerability—of course, that much became clear way back in senior year of high school. Dave's sweetness, his openness and generosity—those are traits Kurt learned of when he was falling in love with him.

And then there were the things that he didn't learn until they were already together. Like...he'd known for a while that Dave isn't as dumb as he acted in high school. But it was still a surprise to find out that he's actually kind of geeky. Not like how Blaine used to geek out with Sam over Star Wars and Marvel comics (and still does, as far as Kurt knows), but like...well, Dave is really into numbers.

He remembers the first time it came up. They were making out and Dave muttered something about Kurt being a "perfect 37."

Kurt let Dave's earlobe drop from between his lips. "I don't think I've heard that one before."

"Mmm, don't stop, Kurt," Dave said, kissing around his mouth. "I meant perfect 10."

But the way he said _10_, like it was distasteful or something, made Kurt pull away even farther. Not that he was bothered, exactly—he was just really curious now. "No, you didn't. You meant 37. I really want to hear about this scale."

Dave sighed and agreed to explain as long as Kurt would promise not to think he was weird. Kurt promised, of course, although he felt compelled to add that there was nothing wrong with being weird.

"Well, it's just that 37 is my favorite number," Dave said.

Kurt waited. When Dave didn't go on, he said, "There's obviously more to it than that. I mean, especially since you were worried I was going to think you were weird."

"No, there really isn't. I just...thought you might think it's weird that I have a favorite number."

It was, actually, a _little_...if not weird, then a little unusual. Especially given what the favorite number was. "Why 37?" he asked. It seemed so random.

"Well, it's a prime number, you gotta love that. Both the digits are odd, and odd numbers are way better than even ones. Well, not better, I guess, I don't want to sound like a misogynist or anything, but—"

"Wait, so you're saying even numbers are feminine?"

"Yeah," Dave said, almost with an implied _of course_. "And like I said, obviously I don't hate girls or anything, but, well, you know where my preferences lie..."

"Right." Kurt smiled. "Go on."

"And...and I don't know what is about 37, exactly, I mean there are certainly other prime numbers with two odd digits—11, 13, 17, 19, 31...well, you get the idea—but there's something about 37 that's just so...so sleek and powerful and...and fucking _sexy_..." Dave's face, while talking about his favorite number, had grown super animated, and his eyes were shining bright. But now he blushed, just a tiny bit, and glanced down at his hands for a second before looking into Kurt's eyes and adding, "It just reminds me of you."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Hummel, did you just say 37 o'clock?" Jamie asks, looking confused.

"Seven o'clock," Kurt clarifies. "I'll be in my office tomorrow morning at seven, if you want to drop by before class. Or you can always e-mail me, but I probably won't get a chance to respond tonight. Now, if you'll excuse me, I really need to go."

Having stopped on the way home for wine and groceries, Kurt lets the former chill while whipping the latter into a romantic dinner. The dessert, which he came home on his lunch hour to make, is chilling in the fridge. He's just putting the main dish in the oven to roast when Dave gets home.

Dave has been looking forward to this all day. The guys at the tire shop even noticed. "What are you so happy about?" one of them asked when they caught him whistling while doing a transmission flush.

"Me and Kurt are doing our taxes tonight," he told them. He knew they probably thought he was either joking or using _taxes_ as a euphemism for sex, but he was totally serious. Soon he'll get to do Hummel Tire & Lube's taxes too—he's going to school part-time for an accounting degree, but until he gets it, they're still using the guy who did them for Burt.

And now here's Kurt, looking amazing in those tight little red pants he knows Dave can't resist him in. The kitchen smells amazing already, and there are candles lit in the dining room. And what kills him about this the most is how Kurt is really getting into it, into this thing that almost no one thinks is sexy, because Dave is into it.

He kisses him, much more briefly and less passionately than he'd like to, but he feels gross and filthy after working at the tire shop all day, and he doesn't want any grease or anything to rub off on his gorgeous husband. "You psyched for tonight, babe?" he asks playfully.

"You know it."

"Dinner smells awesome. Do I still have time for a shower?"

"Of course." Kurt knows Dave always likes to shower when he gets home from work, so it's not like he would time dinner to be ready before he had a chance to. Still, whenever dinner's already started Dave always asks.

Dave is standing under the water scrubbing shampoo into his scalp when he hears the door open. "Kurt?" he asks, though it's a stupid question.

"I wondered if you'd like some company," Kurt answers, slipping in behind him.

Dave's not usually one to say no to Kurt's company in the shower, but... "Is dinner going to burn?" he asks, his voice hitching a little on the final word, as that's when he feels Kurt's naked body press against his to reach for the soap.

"Dinner's fine," Kurt assures him. He starts to soap up Dave's chest as Dave rinses the shampoo out of his hair. And then he adds, "Don't worry, I won't get too frisky. Not before the main event."

"In other words you just wanna tease me."

"Something like that," Kurt admits, soapy hands roaming all over Dave's torso. He nibbles on the back of his neck, then stops to say, "I was just thinking about when you first told me about 37 being your favorite number."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Kurt grabs the soap again and starts washing Dave's back. "And I think I have a favorite number now. You want to hear it?"

"Of course."

"52."

"52, really?" Dave knows he and Kurt have different tastes in a lot of things, but still he's surprised that Kurt would pick an even number as his favorite. "Why's that? You have a hard-on for multiples of 13?"

"Hard-on, huh?" Kurt abruptly reaches for and starts stroking Dave's dick, making him hiss. It's not quite a hard-on, but it will be soon if Kurt keeps it up. "The only _hard-on_ I have is for you and me."

"Uh-huh." Dave tries to keep his mind on the conversation and not Kurt's fingers, which are now massaging his balls. "Then, uh, what do you like about 52?"

"Like I said, you and me. You're like a 5 and I'm like a 2."

Dave doesn't know which characterization he disagrees with more. Kurt is a 37 in his mind, a perfect 37, obviously. And he hasn't really thought about what number he himself is, but...but 5? He takes a breath and reminds himself that not everyone...no, scratch that: pretty much _no one_ thinks of numbers exactly the same way he does. As neutrally as he can he asks, "Why is that?"

"Well, now, don't be offended." Kurt's hands return to Dave's back, which is kind of a relief, you know, for making it possible to carry on a conversation. "I know 5 is your least-favorite odd digit, but I love it because it reminds me of you, how it's like...like all angular and muscular at the top." Here he rubs Dave's shoulder's to demonstrate what he means. "But with a little bit of a belly, which I love just as much." And here he rubs Dave's little bit of a belly, which, it's true, he has often stated his love for.

"Okay..." Dave has never really thought of numbers in terms of the shapes of their numerals, but he can see what Kurt's getting at. "And you're like a 2 because...?"

"Well, you're always saying you like my cute, round ass. You know, like the top of the 2? But, like, upside down obviously."

Dave does, indeed, love Kurt's cute, round little ass. And picturing it upside down, like when they 69 (now _there's_ a fun number)...yeah, now he really wishes Kurt were in front of him where he could see. And more easily touch. He reaches backwards trying to grope that cute upside-down-2-shaped butt, only to prompt Kurt to retreat from the shower altogether, saying, "I guess I'd better let you finish up by yourself if we don't want dinner to burn."

"Cocktease!" Dave accuses.

"Oh hush, you love it when I tease," Kurt says breezily, and he's got him there.

Dave finishes his shower, resisting the urge to also finish what Kurt started, and gets dressed. He walks up behind his husband in the kitchen, about to finally grab that adorable upside-down 2 (as he can't stop thinking of it now), but the timer goes off and Kurt has to bend over to get the food out of the oven. As great as that position is for viewing, they learned from a pretty painful burn Kurt suffered when they first moved in together that it's not really a great time for groping.

Dinner is amazing, Kurt being nearly as talented in the kitchen as he is in the bedroom. They eat and chat by candlelight before retreating to the den (Kurt preferring that term for the second bedroom of their apartment over _office_) with chocolate mousse and more wine.

This is actually their first year of doing their taxes together. Before they were married, they filed separately, of course, and Kurt got help from his dad. And the first couple years they were married, Dave just did their joint returns by himself. But this year he convinced Kurt that it was something he really had to learn how to do just in case...well, he stopped short of saying just in case something should happen to Dave and Kurt should find himself alone. He said, "It's just something you need to know how to do. Just like when you made me learn how to cook a few things. I'll never be as good at it as you, but if you go away for a week I won't have to survive on uncooked ramen and Big League Chew."

Kurt was reluctant at first. He got why it was a good idea and everything, it's just that he kind of thought of it as an unpleasant chore. But since they've been talking about making a night of it, a sort of date, in fact—and a cheap one, as doing their taxes will no doubt remind them of the necessity of—Dave's genuine enthusiasm has been sort of infectious. And now he actually is kind of excited about it. Not as much as Dave, obviously, but more than he would have ever expected to be.

Dave gives Kurt the more comfortable chair. It also happens to be the one in front of the computer, meaning Kurt is the one who has to do all the typing. They start with their federal taxes, the 1040 form. Dave supplies his social security number as well as Kurt's—not that Kurt hasn't memorized his own, though he does not know his husband's, as Dave apparently does.

Lines 1 through 7 are straightforward. When they get to lines 8 and 9 Dave explains that they have to fill out Schedule B for interest and dividend income, both of which Kurt has a some of thanks to Burt. "Okay," Dave says, "so we add up all the numbers in line 1, that's 111.02 + 489.38 + 1.39 =..." He calculates in his head before Kurt can get it all in the Google calculator and continues, "601.79...so type that in line 2."

"601.79," Kurt repeats as he types.

"Right," Dave confirms. "So now line 3 we get from form 8815, which we just did"—that's the form for interest on series EE savings bonds, and this one is actually Dave's; he cashed a savings bond his grandmother bought him when he was a baby—"and that was 367.60. So we subtract line 3 from line 2, so that's 601.79-367.60, so...234.19."

"So line 4 is 234.19."

"Yep. So now line 5 there's just the one thing for, that's..." Dave double checks the paperwork. "...843.00, so just type that in there and again the same number in line 6, because you're just adding up everything from line 5 and there's just the one thing. So then we hop on back to the 1040, and put the number from line 4 in line 8a and the number from line 3 in line 8b and the number from line 6 in line 9a. See? It's easy."

Kurt's not sure he would agree that it's easy, but it's not too bad. He does like watching his husband do calculations in his head so quickly. And it doesn't hurt that Dave's hand is resting on the back of Kurt's neck and his fingers are playing in his hair. So he says, "I'm glad I'm doing it with you. Mousse?" Dave nods and Kurt spoon feeds him a bite.

They slowly work their way down the form, all the way through line 74, filling out various additional forms and schedules along the way. "So line 63 is more than 74," Dave points out.

"So that means we have to pay," Kurt says. He can't say his attention hasn't flagged at all while they've been working, but he's been paying close enough attention to know what having a bigger line 63 than line 74 means. "That sucks!"

"Yeah," Dave says. "I mean, no one _likes_ to write a check to the government, but it's actually better to have to pay than to get a refund. Because if you get a refund, it means you had too much withheld, you paid them too much in advance, so essentially you've made an interest-free loan to the government, when you could have held onto it and used it to, I don't know..."

"Earn .03% interest in a savings account?" That's the rate that earned them $1.39 of their interest last year.

"Yeah, but it's _our_ .03% interest," Dave says. He takes Kurt's hand and kisses his wrist.

"That's nice," Kurt says. He holds his hand where it is, hoping for another kiss, which he receives. "How about we take a little break?"

"You just took a break."

"That was like forty-five minutes ago, and it was just long enough to pee and get some more wine."

"You wouldn't need to pee if you didn't drink so much wine."

"Are you calling me a wino?" Kurt asks teasingly.

"Nah." Dave doesn't think Kurt is even tipsy. "I'm just saying we're on a roll, let's get started on the state forms."

"Fine," Kurt says, hating to rain on Dave's parade. "But we're changing the seating arrangement because I'm getting tired of doing all the typing."

Dave agrees to this concession and moves the newly vacated seat at the computer. Kurt, rather than taking Dave's old seat, stands behind him massaging his shoulders.

"Mmm...that's nice, babe, but I'm still not ready to take a break."

"Are you accusing me of having an ulterior motive?"

"Okay, here's the form," Dave says, sidestepping Kurt's question. "Let's get started."

"Yes. Let's."

"Line 1," Dave reads, "'federal adjusted gross income.' That's from line 37 of our federal form 1040."

"I'm sorry, what line of our federal 1040?"

"37."

"37," Kurt repeats, whispering in his ear. "The sexiest of all numbers." He lets his hands stray down the front of Dave's shirt, massaging his chest. "So sleek. So powerful." He nips at Dave's neck and earlobe. Then, in that breathy voice that always drives Dave crazy he says it once more: "37."

"Are you trying to turn me on by saying that number?"

"Is it working?"

"Yes," Dave admits.

"37," Kurt repeats, unbuttoning Dave's shirt.

"You know what other number I find erotic now, thanks to you?"

"52?"

"Uh-huh. Specifically the second digit."

"Dave likes an even number!" Kurt teases.

"Only because you've made me aware of its similarity to your ass."

"Really. Cause you could have this ass any time you want to take a little break."

"Kurt..." He knew it, he _knew_ Kurt had an ulterior motive with that back massage. Not that it isn't tempting to take a break, but... "Later. Let's finish this."

"Okay, honey." Kurt plops himself in Dave's lap.

"Kurt."

"What? You know how uncomfortable that other chair is."

"Mm-hmm. Fine." Dave peers around Kurt at the computer screen, trying to ignore how he's wiggling, grinding his ass into Dave's lap. "So I'll just copy the number from line...from the indicated line of the 1040...there we go. Now we skip to page 3 and fill out Schedule A." He scrolls down and skims over lines 33 through 36, Income Additions, none of which apply to them. Then he's at line 37, under Income Deductions. It doesn't apply to them either, but the presence of that number again doesn't escape him.

Nor does his reaction to it escape Kurt. "What are you looking at, babe?" Kurt asks. Voice all sultry he adds, "Line 37?"

"Just wondering if we need to check section 168(k) of the Internal Revenue Code. I mean, I'm pretty sure we don't, but—"

"What does line 52 say?"

Dave knows what he's doing, but he scrolls down anyway to look. "Line 52 is the senior citizen credit. That definitely doesn't apply: you have to be 65 or older."

"How do you feel about the number 65?"

"You know I'm not a fan of multiples of 5."

"How about 65 plus what you get when you divide 52 by 13?" Kurt asks, grinding hard in his lap.

"Oh Jesus, Kurt." Finally ready to admit defeat on the taking-a-break issue he stands, picking up Kurt too. It's only a few feet to the spare bed, where he lays his husband down.

Kurt quickly unbuttons his shirt and pants, the latter of which Dave peels off him and drops on the floor. He takes a moment to admire his husband in his chest-baring open shirt and sexy black briefs before commencing to mouth at his half-hard cock through the cotton. Kurt squirms under him, mewling occasionally, until he's rock hard and unable to keep himself from rutting against Dave's face.

Dave stands and admires again. Kurt's face is so gorgeous when it's all flushed with lust. He needs to go get the lube from their own bedroom, but before he goes he says, "I want you naked and face down when I get back."

And that's exactly how he finds him a moment later when he returns. After discarding his own clothes, he climbs onto the bed between Kurt's legs. Looking at his perfect, round little ass, he's struck by the realization that 3 is actually a lot more ass-shaped than 2. But it doesn't matter, because 2 is now associated in his brain with the number of his husband's ass. 52 is _Kurt's_ favorite number, and he only hasa favorite number because Dave has this unusual fondness for numbers _and_ his favorite is the number that reminds him of the two of them. So is he going to sit there and nitpick? Hell no.

No, he has much better things to do than nitpick about which numeral looks most like an ass. Number one priority: touch his husband's actual, perfect ass. He squeezes and kneads it, then pulls the cheeks apart for a good look at that tiny, perfect hole he's soon going to be inside.

"Oh god!" Kurt cries as Dave's tongue makes its first swipe over his balls and up to his hole. He's never any good at holding still when Dave rims him, and luckily Dave never seems to mind the way he alternately presses his ass back and grinds against the mattress.

Dave spends plenty of time rimming and fingering him, partially because he never wants to hurt Kurt when he fucks him, but mostly just because they both love this part so much. Kurt loves the way Dave's tongue feels way up inside him, and Dave loves the way Kurt tastes, not to mention how hot the whimpering and the squirming are.

He keeps at it until his cock is so hard and achy that he can't stand to neglect it a second longer. He reaches for the lube so he can finally fuck his husband, but then he remembers the equation Kurt mentioned that led to this break in the first place.

Patting Kurt on the butt, he tells him, "Stand up, baby, and let me lay down."

"You want me to ride you?" Kurt asks, not at all averse to the suggestion.

"Maybe in a bit, but first...you mentioned something about the sum of the age of senior citizenship and 1/13th of your new favorite number?"

It takes Kurt a few seconds to catch on, as he has not been in a math frame of mind during their most recent activity. But soon he does remember what was, after all, his own innuendo. "69 it is," he says, hopping up to let Dave get positioned first.

As soon as Dave is flat on his back, Kurt straddles him, easing his dick into Dave's mouth. Oh, fuck, it feels good. So much better than rubbing against the mattress. He leans forward for his first taste of his husband's cock. God, look at it. So big and hard and pink—probably so needy by now. He gives it a teasing little lick and is immediately rewarded with a deep groan, which reverberates through his own cock.

Jesus, Kurt's teasing is hard to take. Those soft little kitten licks all around the head of his cock when Dave desperately needs more.

Of course, Kurt was right earlier when he said Dave loves it when he teases—it just makes it that much sweeter when Kurt eventually gives him what he wants. So when he finally wraps his talented lips around Dave's engorged shaft and really starts to suck, Dave can't help but start to thrust, involuntarily fucking up into Kurt's mouth.

Dave holds on as long as he can, but it's not actually that much longer before he has to let Kurt's dick fall from his mouth so he can warn him, "If you wanna ride me, baby, you gotta stop that now."

Kurt does very much want to ride Dave's cock, so he stops. He finds the lube and coats Dave's dick with it, then hands it to Dave to spread around his entrance. It's cold but warms quickly under Dave's fingers.

He moves down the bed along Dave's body. They don't do reverse cowgirl that often—they usually like to look at each other while they make love—but Kurt's already facing away from him, and there has been a lot of talk tonight about Dave liking to look at his ass, so he decides not to turn around before grabbing Dave's cock and guiding it into himself.

And, oh god, Dave loves the sight of his dick disappearing into his husband's ass, up between those sweet, perfectly curved cheeks, inside that little pink hole. He loves the sight of it almost as much as the feel of it, but of course nothing can beat the feel of it.

Kurt lowers himself slowly, savoring the sensation of Dave's thick meat working him open. Not that he wasn't stretched enough, but still it's always an adjustment. He lets out a sigh of relief when finally he's fully seated. He never, ever stops being amazed at how full Dave's cock stuffs him.

He starts to swivel his hips, slowly at first, though not actually as slowly as Dave usually starts when he's on top. He always worries about hurting him, and eventually Kurt has to beg him to fuck harder and faster. But like this it doesn't take Kurt that long to work his bouncing up to a pretty rapid pace.

Dave loves when Kurt rides him and takes control of their fucking—which is not to say he doesn't love the stuff they do other times, but there's something very freeing about not having to worry about whether he's hurting his smaller lover, about not even having to think about whether he's making it pleasurable for him. All he has to do is lie back and enjoy the feeling of Kurt's hot, gripping channel milking him. Except now he's not actually lying _back,_ because by propping himself up by the elbows he gets an amazing view of Kurt's ass bouncing and smacking against him as Kurt desperately chases his pleasure.

And he's almost got it, too—he's found just the right angle to impale himself so that Dave's cock slams into his prostate every time he drops down on it. He cries out every time he feels that pleasurable jab of pressure. "Oh!...Oh!...Fuck!...Yeah!..." And soon there's that tightening in his gut and he quickly jerks himself toward completion, his verbal outbursts morphing into a continuous "aaaaaaaaa_aaaaaaAAAAAA_..." as he erupts, spilling all over his fist and his husband's balls and thighs.

Dave never can last through Kurt's orgasmic screaming, which is just so fucking hot. Not to mention, of course, the way all his muscles seize up and clench around his dick. Holding Kurt's hips tight he manages half a dozen or so long, powerful thrusts before he finds his release and unloads deep inside Kurt.

Kurt slumps forward and lies there for a minute catching his breath before finding the energy to turn around and cuddle against Dave's chest. He's starting to doze when Dave's fingers in his hair startle him awake. "Right!" he says. "Break's over. Time for the state forms."

"Mmm...let's forget the state forms for tonight," Dave answers sleepily.

"Are you sure?" Kurt asks. It's true he was trying to persuade Dave to take a break from the taxes, but not to put them off indefinitely.

"Yeah, I'm sure," Dave says. "We have plenty of time, it's only January."

"True," Kurt agrees. The prospect of not moving from the spare bed for the rest of the night is extremely appealing, after all.

"Besides," Dave adds, "if we work on the taxes again tomorrow night, maybe we can have a repeat of this too."


End file.
